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what do you say to someone who is living under siege, where 19 can be killed in half a day and it goes unnoticed by the world? what do you say when that person is subject to death, regardless of whether out on the street or inside his home, regardless of whether a civilian, a farmer, a resistance fighter resisting the helicopters, tanks, and resultant shelling of the world’s 4th largest military, one well-funded and backed by the US and the West…?

and how do you comprehend hearing directly from civilians in Gaza that the latest bout of Israeli army shelling and gunfire has killed 19, injured over 40, and yet is being reported –if at all –as an operation against militants, justified by the war on homemade rocket-fire, the war on terror, a lying president’s overtures –make that two…three…and the fact that an Islamic group was elected into power.

I spoke on the phone with my friend, a journalist, who doesn’t know if he will be shelled outside or inside his home, whose daily worries extend past giving a shit about Brittany Spears or Reality tv, extend instead to worrying about a mother who needed surgery for her critical disease…surgery in a prison where most medicines have long since run out, thanks to Israel and the West’s siege on civilians… His worries include that his mother didn’t even have enough blankets to keep warm in a hospital without sufficient power, food, and basic necessities.

aside from his mother, his worries extend to his neighbours, to the entire strip, who will inevitably be injured or killed by indiscriminate Israeli shelling which will be justified as an attack on militants. And even though Israeli human rights groups along with international bodies are condemning each fresh massacre of Palestinian civilians in Gaza, each fresh bulldozing of agricultural land, each fresh demolition of homes, each fresh shelling on fishing boats… even though the condemnation is there, does it matter? does Israel stop? does any body in power really do anything to hold Israel accountable.

George Bush feigned concern over Israel’s occupation of the West Bank (and East Jerusalem) but said that Gaza was another matter altogether. Written off.

how does one write off the humans who have less than 8 hours electricity a day, if that, have limited drinking water resources, if at all in some areas, are not permitted to leave their prison for medical care in Egypt, are not permitted to fish in their waters, are not permitted to live with dignity?

what did I say? I’m sorry. It’s wrong. It’s criminal. We care. These atrocities have to end.

what did that do. nothing. I’m sure it gave him no comfort whatsoever, nor did it comfort me.

I’m sitting in Iman’s internet café and suddenly notice the vibrato tenor of a familiar voice. The music wafts amidst the sounds of different video games being played, their players egging each other on.

Iman sits behind his desk, headphones on, eyes half closed, a dreamy look on his face like that which many people around the world get when listening to fine classical music.
“Do you like Pavarotti?” he asks me. “Go to You Tube B (his pronunciation) and type Pavarotti. You can find anything about him there.”

I’m so used to using You Tube for reporting purposes that it seems a nice alternative use for the site.

months ago in ar Ram, i came across two older men working a dirty plot of land. The surrounding area was old tires, rubbish, rotting trash, and rocks. they plucked useable stones gingerly from the mess, pushed and dug aside much of the heap, imported new, rich soil, and laboured for days leveling and smoothing the land. they bought plants and trees, laid stones and protective, decorative tires and barrels, staggered levels artistically, had coffee breaks, and worked to create what has grown into a side of the walk beauty that catches me each time i pass by.

Coming to terms with all of the contradictions is proving to be a challenging element I hadn’t considered. I had prepared for brutality and indignation, neglecting to imagine indifference, misplaced priorities, futility –I feel useless.

I also didn’t know –though I should have imagined, based on last summer and previous years –that Gaza would be ravaged by IOF attacks and international sanctions, and would spiral in its already unfathomable conditions. Nor that I would be safe in a comparatively comfortable setting while talking to my Rafah friend, hearing not only his pain and fatigue but also the roar of Israeli fighter planes and the sounds of shelling.

Didn’t expect the great fatigue at feeling to much and at the sense of utter uselessness.

Also didn’t expect the laughter and phenomenal zest for life of a people under decades of Occupation and humiliation.